


Off Limits

by marmolita



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Angst, Aphrodisiacs, Dubious Consent, F/M, Light Bondage, Pining, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5888509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/pseuds/marmolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth accepts the hospitality of an alien planet.  Things go sideways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set somewhere in season 2 or so. Warnings: dubious consent of the sex pollen variety. A million thanks to [misswonderheart](http://misswonderheart.tumblr.com) and [atrata](http://archiveofourown.org/users/atrata) for beta and brainstorming!

On Solanis, the conclusion of trade negotiations was traditionally celebrated with a feast -- a feast with copious amounts of alcohol. Elizabeth limited herself to one cup with dinner, enough to toast to their future prosperity and show appropriate appreciation for the trouble her hosts were going to, without getting so tipsy as to compromise her judgement. It was a strong brew, spicy and thick, and she couldn't help laughing when John leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Sure beats Coors Light."

When the dinner plates were cleared away and most of the villagers were well into their cups, the headman, Torin, produced a bottle of clear golden liquid and offered it to her. "What's this?" Elizabeth asked, as he poured it into her cup.

"This is called _oosag_. It's a rare liquor that we save for our most special occasions, when celebration is called for." Torin poured himself some and then gestured to Elizabeth's cup. "Please," he said, "let us celebrate the promising future of trade between our peoples." When it was put that way, there was really no room to refuse, so she lifted her cup to him and drank deeply. It was smooth going down, but burned in her belly like she'd just had an entire bottle of vodka.

"Colonel?" Torin offered the bottle to John, who shook his head.

"Thanks, but I'm on the clock," he said. Torin looked confused and John smiled that vaguely amused half-smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, and didn't explain himself.

"He means he's not allowed to get drunk on duty," Elizabeth said, patting John's shoulder, warm and solid beneath her fingers.

"Ah, yes, of course," Torin said. "Well, Dr. Weir, if you'll excuse me, I believe my wife would like to dance." She nodded at him and stood as he left the table, head spinning suddenly as she straightened so that she had to grab the table to steady herself.

Elizabeth sat back down unsteadily, and John leaned in close. "Are you alright?" he asked. His breath was hot on her ear and when she turned to him it took a moment's effort to force herself to look at his eyes rather than his lips.

"To be honest, that liquor hit me like a ton of bricks," she said. "I'll be fine, just let me sit here for a while. Why don't you go check on the jumper? Make sure it's powered down so we don't have any trouble with that storm tonight." He hesitated, then nodded and left. As she watched him go, Elizabeth found herself thinking about the shape of John's thigh, outlined by the holster, and the way his shirt hung close around his torso. "Get it together, Elizabeth," she muttered to herself. "You know better than that."

***

She'd thought that sitting a while would let the liquor wear off, but instead it felt like it was getting stronger. Her head was muddled, she was too hot, and moving made her dizzy. The villagers were dancing, spinning in rowdy circles, and the rest of the team she had come with were dancing right along with them. As the song ended, Teyla emerged from the throng of villagers, flushed and smiling. "Dr. Weir," she said, "will you not dance?"

"Actually, I'm feeling a bit tired." Elizabeth stood, staggering a little, and Teyla caught her arm. She blinked at the way the heat from Teyla's fingers seemed to send electric shocks up her arm, but the touch was gone as soon as it had come. "I'm not sure what they put in that second drink, but it was powerful."

"Second drink?" Teyla asked, frowning.

"The, uh, _oosag_ , I think he said it was called. You didn't have any?" Teyla shook her head. "Oh, well. I think I'm just going to go lie down."

"Yes, of course. Do you need help?"

Elizabeth took a tentative step and found that while she was a bit dizzy, she was still quite capable of walking. "Thank you, but I'll be alright. When he comes back, let Colonel Sheppard know that I've gone to bed please." Teyla nodded and Elizabeth slowly headed back to the room she'd been provided.

***

There was definitely something wrong. Elizabeth knew the effect that alcohol had on her normally. She knew it made her loose and comfortable, head fuzzy and body warm. Reduced inhibitions, lack of judgement, and if she were being honest with herself, drinking made her think about sex a lot. It was part of why she usually abstained when they got fresh supplies from Earth -- it wouldn't do for her to get drunk and try to get into someone's pants.

But this? This was not normal. The heat that had filled her belly when she drank the _oosag_ had spread down between her legs, and laying naked on the wide bed in the guest room, she'd figured it wouldn't do any harm to touch herself. It had been easy to bring herself off the first time, and the second. The third was a bit more difficult, and that was when she realized that while alcohol made her horny, it didn't make her horny like _this_. The first time should have been enough, but she found herself unsatisfied and aching, the world blurring around her as she rubbed desperately at her clit.

"Dr. Weir?" John's voice crackled over the radio. "Elizabeth, are you there?" She could picture the look of concern on his face, brows drawing together, lips pursed, and oh, something about that thought hit her in just the right place.

"Get to the radio, Elizabeth," she muttered to herself, but her hands were too busy between her legs, teasing and stroking and oh god, she had been thinking about John since she left the hall. The quirk of his smile, the line of his body, and what would it be like to touch him? Elizabeth moaned as she slid three fingers back inside herself, indulging in the fantasy of John she'd been shamefully cultivating for months. The radio was crackling again, but the fog in her head was too thick to let her think about anything other than the feeling of her fingers sliding slick inside her, the press of her other hand on her nipple, the thought of John's weight covering her. She fucked herself with her fingers harder, losing track of time. The world receded into the driving need to reach her climax, which seemed unattainably far away.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, leaning her head back on the pillows, arching her hips up into her own touch, and then-- Then there was a hand on her wrist, pulling her fingers out. She reached out with her other hand but was restrained there as well, and couldn't stop the pitiful mewling sound that escaped her throat as she opened her eyes. John's face swam in front of her, his lips moving soundlessly, eyebrows drawn together in concern and anger.

Awareness slammed back into her and she realized he was saying her name. "Elizabeth. Elizabeth! You're hurting yourself, you have to stop. Elizabeth, can you hear me?"

Breathing hard, she swallowed, trying to force back the thickness in her head. "Y--Yes, yes I can hear you." Her cheeks burned, but whether it was from shame or arousal she wasn't certain. How long had he been in her room? How long had she been lost in that haze? He was right, she had been hurting herself -- she could feel the burn of too much friction on her clit, the ache in her nipples, and the soreness of her wrist. There was a droplet of blood trickling down her inner thigh from where she'd unknowingly scratched herself with a sharp nail.

"Okay, okay, that's good," John said, pushing her hands back into the pillows. She gasped and writhed, knowing this was wrong but needing to get more contact with his body, and more friction between her legs, no matter how painful. "Listen to me, Elizabeth. The _oosag_ that they gave you, it's got an aphrodisiac in it, to put it mildly. Teyla told me you weren't feeling well and I might have been a little . . . undiplomatic about getting the details from Torin."

"W--What?" she gasped, barely able to comprehend what he was saying.

"Don't worry, I didn't compromise our trade agreement, even though I wanted to punch him in the damn face. The effects will wear off after a few hours, but until then you're going to have to ride it out. The locals build up a tolerance to it, they didn't think-- Well, they just didn't think." His body was just out of her reach, his face too far away. Elizabeth knew she was supposed to say something but all she could do was stare at his mouth and lick her lips. "I'm going to let go of you now," he said slowly. "I want you to try to be gentle with yourself. _Hours_ , Elizabeth, if you hurt yourself now-- Just go slow, okay?"

His grip loosened, then relaxed entirely, and she meant to do what he was asking her to but instead her body acted of its own accord, surging up from the pillows, grabbing his head and pressing her lips to his, hot and eager. John jerked backward, grabbing at her wrists again and pushing her off of him. He was angry, and she knew it was her fault this time, but she just couldn't stop. She squirmed under his grip, panting and staring at the place where her slick fingers had left a wet trail on the side of his jaw.

Elizabeth swallowed and tried to get a hold of herself. She had to get him away before she made this any worse. "Go," she choked out. "Just leave me alone. I can't-- I can't."

"Elizabeth," he said, voice pained, face unreadable. She couldn't help moaning at the sound of her name from his lips, rubbing her thighs together and fighting his iron grasp. "Fucking Pegasus Galaxy," he muttered under his breath. Louder, he added, "You're going to be okay. I'm going to have to-- I'm going to restrain you. I'm gonna make sure you're okay but I need to make sure you're not going to hurt yourself, or--"

_Or touch me,_ was what he meant. John shifted his grip so he was holding both her wrists in one hand, and rummaged in the pockets of his vest with the other. Elizabeth kept struggling, not because she wanted to but because she couldn't help herself, and his fingers tightened around her hard enough to bruise. He pulled out a ziptie and made a face at it, then held it in his mouth (the glimpse of his tongue as he put it between his teeth sending another jolt of arousal down her spine) and grabbed a blanket. He wound the blanket around and between her wrists, then used the ziptie to secure them to the railing at the head of the bed. She pulled at the bonds as soon as he let go of her, but couldn't get herself free.

John blew out a breath. "Okay," he said, finding another blanket to cover her nakedness, "you just sit tight. I'm going to stay with you to make sure you're okay." He paused for a moment, then added, "Unless you'd rather have me send in someone else? Teyla, or--"

"No," Elizabeth gasped, already kicking at the blanket, which was too coarse, too much contact and not enough at the same time. It was a reasonable thing for him to suggest, and he probably thought she was saying no because she didn't want anyone else to see her like this, but the fact was that her body was throbbing just looking at him and she didn't want him to leave. Whatever vestiges of control that had allowed her to tell him to go had slipped away -- the more time went by without any touch on her privates the faster her breathing seemed to get, and she already felt like she'd just run a marathon. She squeezed her thighs together hard but it wasn't enough to settle the burning feeling thrumming in her veins.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed tied up like that, seconds, minutes -- it felt like every moment she wasn't being touched stretched into forever. John was so close, head turned slightly like he was trying not to look at her but also didn't want to let her out of his sight, and all she could think was how much she wanted him. Wild fantasies flew through her hazy mind, ratcheting up her heart rate as she thought about what it would be like to have him inside her, pushing her to the limit, filling her up and--

"Elizabeth!" John was talking again, but she couldn't focus on his words because she was too busy thinking about his mouth, his lean, muscled body, his big hands and what it would be like to fuck him. "....hyperventilating...can't get you back to Atlantis...electrical storm coming…" His voice faded in and out through the loud echo of her own breath filling her ears, and then his hands were touching hers and she groaned at the contact, like it was closing a circuit she didn't know had broken open. He was doing something with the ziptie, cutting it and pulling out another and then one of her hands was blessedly free. She reached down and rubbed roughly at her clit, hard and fast and heedless of the lingering pain, until finally she was coming again, arching up and then collapsing back onto the bed.

It bought her a little bit of clarity, a slight recession of the cloud in her head. Not a withdrawal though; this clearly wasn't over yet. "I'm sorry," she breathed, not looking at John. “I don't think I can . . ."

"Yeah, you hyperventilated and I thought you were gonna have a heart attack," he replied, standing closer than she expected but still out of reach. "I guess that option is off the table." He looked at her sideways. "How are you feeling?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "A little better, but I don't think it's going to last long." Her hand was still between her legs, stroking along her labia, teasing at her entrance. She didn't think she'd be able to stop, no matter how hard she tried.

"Does it hurt?" he asked carefully. "It looked like maybe you were hurting yourself again."

"Yeah, but I can't-- I have to. Going slow is just not . . . enough." What a conversation to be having, stuck through the night on another planet, naked and wanton with her hand between her legs, and her military commander standing next to her, fully dressed, with the impassive expression he put on whenever there was something difficult to deal with happening. "John? Talk to me?"

He sighed and turned to look her in the eye, careful to not let his gaze move lower. She didn't have that much control, though, and her eyes wandered over his body, lingering on his collarbones, his chest, the waist of his pants -- the bulge at his crotch, god, it was probably just an involuntary reaction for him but the sight made her impossibly wetter. "Listen. You're in a bad way, I know. I don't want you to get hurt. I can . . . help you out, but I don't want to touch you unless you tell me that's what you want."

"Oh god, please," Elizabeth found herself saying. She shouldn't take advantage of this offer, she shouldn't take advantage of John's penchant for self-sacrifice, but the thought of his hands on her body was so enticing that there was really nothing else for her to say. "Please, I'll do whatever you want, please just-- Please."

He tilted his head a little, then nodded. "Okay then. I'm gonna need to tie that hand back up." She was confused for a minute, but then realized that he didn't want her to touch him. It shouldn't hurt; it was just a last-ditch attempt at some kind of propriety, but she couldn't help feeling disappointed. His physical arousal clearly didn't speak to his own desires.

"Okay," she said without moving. John pressed his lips together in a thin line, then came closer and grabbed her arm, his grip firm but gentle. He pulled her hand away from her crotch and wound the blanket around it again, then secured it next to the other.

"Feel okay?" he asked, but all Elizabeth could think was that this meant he was going to put his hands on her, was going to touch her burning skin, was going to--

"Please, John."

"Yeah, okay." And then he was climbing onto the bed, scooting down between her legs, his hands settling on her thighs to hold them apart. He glanced up at her one last time before dipping his face down, and her heart skipped a beat or five before his tongue connected with her, hot and wet and enough to make her vision go blurry for a moment. If she'd had any sort of composure left she would have been embarrassed by the pornographic sound that came out of her mouth, but she was long past that point.

He licked her slowly, gently, soothing over the sore spots where she'd rubbed herself raw. She shifted against his mouth, trying to get more, but John slid his arm up over her hips to hold her still. He was slow and relentless, tongue sliding wetly over her, rolling her clit between his lips. Elizabeth wasn't sure at what point she'd started begging again, wasn't even sure exactly what she was begging for, but a steady stream of _please, John, please_ was falling from her lips in between gasps and breathy moans. It felt like he kept her there in suspended animation, not giving her enough to reach her climax but giving her just enough to be able to keep breathing.

John moved the hand that was on her thigh, and it had been still so long that the sudden change jolted through her body. He took his mouth off of her, breathing a little unsteadily and licking his lips, and then he was sucking on her clit and his fingers were pressing against her, sliding in easily. The feeling of penetration after being held on the edge for so long was enough to tip her over into another orgasm. Elizabeth couldn't be certain through the haze, but she thought she might be screaming.

When she came back to herself, John was still lying between her legs, fingers pressed to the pulse point on her inner thigh. "Doing okay?" he asked, voice still calm and face as impassive as ever. The was a shiny smear of moisture all across the lower half of his face, but he made no move to wipe it off.

"Yeah, I-- Yeah."

"How are your arms feeling?"

Elizabeth was confused for a moment, then tried to move her arms and remembered that she was restrained. It hadn't seemed very important a few minutes ago. Come to think of it, her arms were starting to get a little numb. "I think they're falling asleep," she said, flexing her muscles to test them.

"Figured," John replied, moving up onto his knees and checking his watch. "It's been an hour and a half since I tied you up there." He pulled a knife from his pocket and leaned forward to cut the zipties. It brought his chest up next to her head, and before she realized it Elizabeth was rubbing her face against him, breathing him in, mouthing at him through his shirt. He tensed and jerked away, climbing off the bed and coming to cut the ties from the other side. "I guess you're not ready to have the ties off," he said, pulling out another ziptie and holding it in his mouth as he carefully brought her arms down. The rush of blood returning to her extremities caused the worst kind of pins and needles, and she flinched and grunted in pain. He pressed her arms up against her chest, elbows bent, then moved them in circles to get the blood flowing again.

"Sorry, but I think we're going to have to put your hands behind your back." John looked apologetic as he pulled her up on her knees and gently moved her hands behind her back, securing them again with the blanket and tie. Kneeling put her at a different angle, where she could sit on her feet and find some blessed friction, even without her hands. "Do you, uh, need to use the bathroom?" he asked, walking across the room to the water basin and filling a cup. Elizabeth couldn't help appreciating the spread of his shirt over his shoulders, the narrow width of his hips, the slight curve of his ass, barely visible through the baggy BDU pants. She ground herself down onto her heel and licked her lips. He looked over his shoulder at her. "Elizabeth?"

"N-- No," she replied. "No, I don't need to. Water would be good though." She wasn't sure how she was going to drink any with her hands bound, but then the mental image came to her of John holding the cup to her lips, cool water filling her mouth and dripping down her neck and breasts. Would he look at her breasts? Was he still turned on by this? If he got that close to her, maybe she could just lean forward, knock the cup away, get her mouth on him and--

An involuntary sound came out of her mouth as her heel slipped against her vulva, slick with her own arousal and John's saliva. He drank the first cup of water he filled, and the second, while Elizabeth rocked her hips against her heel and watched his throat working. When he filled a third cup and brought it to her, she leaned toward him eagerly, drawn in by his body heat. He stopped her with a hand on her head, fingers tangling in her hair to hold her still. "Drink," he said, bringing the cup to her lips, and he was so close she could practically taste him, but he held her out of reach and so she parted her lips and drank. When she'd finished, he let go of her hair and stepped away again to replace the cup, and she whined at the loss of contact before she could stop herself. It was beginning to build again, her peripheral vision blurring, the sounds around her muffled as her focus began to move back downward.

She rocked hard against her heels when he placed his hands on her shoulders, grip gentle but firm. "I don't want to hurt your arms or your shoulders, so I'm going to lay you down on your stomach. Is that okay?" On her stomach, she could do that, she could lie on her stomach for him; she'd lose the contact with her heels but her ass would be in the air and maybe he'd lose his composure, maybe he'd--

"Y--yes, yeah, that's-- Yeah." He lowered her gently to the bed, moving the pillows so there was one supporting her hips and space to rest her head. Elizabeth squirmed, the rough drag of the blankets on her nipples sending sparks down her spine. In this position her arms weren't quite long enough to be able to reach down and touch herself. She could hear John moving around near her, but her head was turned the other way and she didn't have enough leverage to move it to see him. "Please," she gasped. "Please, fuck, please John, I need it, I want you to--"

His hand settled lightly on her ass and she nearly leapt out of her skin. "Please," she said again, "pleasepleasepleaseplease--" John's hand slid around to hold onto her hip, and then his fingers were in her, moving steadily in and out, thumb brushing her clit. She tried to push back against him, to urge him harder and faster, but he just held her hips still with an iron grasp and fucked her methodically with his fingers, pulling them out every so often to trace around her entrance before plunging back in.

Time evaporated and started to slip by her again, but somewhere along the line, Elizabeth was pretty sure she'd started to beg him to fuck her, to put his dick inside her, even to put his dick in her mouth. All he ever said was, "Shh, you're gonna be okay," and just kept on steadily, switching hands when he got tired, sometimes using his mouth for a while. She hovered there in a fog for an eternity, held on the edge, panting and cursing and pleading, until finally he let go of her hip and let her start pushing back against him. She gasped as he moved his free hand to her clit, rubbing hard, and sped up the hand that was inside her, giving her what she needed at last.

"Come on," he said, voice still gentle. "Come on, Elizabeth," and then his mouth was on her too, tongue moving around and between his fingers, and she shuddered and came so hard she blacked out.

This time, when she came to, John was sitting on the floor, elbows on his knees, head drooping. He looked up when he heard her move, and asked, "How are you feeling?" He looked more clear in the dim light than she remembered, his voice louder and his presence less overwhelming.

"Better, I think," she said, then tried to sit up. All she succeeded in doing was straining her shoulder, and John lurched to his feet and pulled out his knife to cut the tie on her arms. She tried to pull her arms back to stretch, but he held on to her wrists carefully, still restraining her. Elizabeth looked him in the eye and said, "It's not so bad anymore. You can let go of me." The corner of his lips twitched, and he slowly released his grip, expression still wary.

She still wanted to touch him. She still wanted everything, but at least she had some amount of control now, so she brought her wrists up to her chest and rubbed at them. There were already bruises forming, though whether they were from the restraints or his tight grip she couldn't be sure. Elizabeth belatedly thought to pull the blankets up to cover herself, and John belatedly acted like he hadn't seen anything. "I'll get you some water," he said, then turned and went to the basin. 

When he came back, she was able to take the cup from him without any undue contact, and drank deeply. "So, do you think it's out of your system?" he asked, still averting his gaze even though she was no longer exposed. Her gaze lingered on his Adam's apple.

"No," Elizabeth replied honestly, "not entirely. But I think maybe I can sleep it off now." She was exhausted, and he looked exhausted too. "Remind me where the bathroom is?"

***

When she got back from using the facilities, John was laying on the floor, with a pillow and blanket borrowed from the bed. He looked like he was asleep, so she didn't try to talk to him as she climbed into the bed. The sheets were still wet, and she had to squirm around to find a comfortable spot. Her mind was still too fuzzy to try to process what had happened, and her weary body relaxed quickly into sleep, listening to the sound of rain outside.

***

Elizabeth woke up some time later, the lamps having burned low and the windows still dark through the curtains, illuminated in sharp flashes by lightning. The fire was thrumming in her veins again. She rolled over and looked across the room at the shape of John's body, still asleep. If she fantasized about him while she touched herself, did it really do any harm?

It wasn't as bad, this time around. Having her arms free was much more comfortable, and she was aware enough to avoid hurting herself any more than she already had. Still, it was intense, and she wasn't able to stay as quiet as she'd intended.

After, when she was breathing hard and trying to settle back down to sleep, she chanced another look at John and thought she saw the gleam of his eyes slitted open in the dim light.

***

Light filtered through the gaps around the curtains, and a bird was singing in a tree somewhere very nearby. Elizabeth had a pounding headache. She groaned and turned her face into the pillows, wishing for just a little more sleep.

"Morning."

She froze, the sound of John's voice bringing her vague memories of the previous night into sharp relief, then sat up, holding the blankets to her chest. "You didn't need to stay all night," she told him. He'd clearly been up for a while; his face was freshly washed and shaved, and he was checking his gun before sliding it into its holster.

He shrugged. "I had to make sure you were okay. Are you?" he asked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

Elizabeth stretched out her legs and twisted her neck, then rolled her shoulders. "Yeah," she replied. "A little sore, and I've got an awful headache, but yeah, I think I'm okay. John, I--"

"Great," he said, cutting her off. "There's fresh water, and they're laying out breakfast in the hall. I'll meet you back at the jumper in an hour." He smiled and nodded at her like nothing had happened and was out of the room before she could stop him, before she could say anything.

_What were you going to say, anyway, Elizabeth? Thank you? I'm sorry?_ She groaned again and let herself fall back onto the bed for a moment -- but only a moment. Torin would probably be waiting for her, and Atlantis needed supplies far more than she needed her dignity.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth deals with (or fails to deal with) the fallout.

After donning her diplomat face to make it through breakfast with Torin (whose apology she had waved off in the interest of making sure her people had enough food to eat), the flight back to Atlantis had gone more smoothly than expected. Elizabeth wasn't certain exactly what John had told everyone, but it appeared to have been some variant of joking that she couldn't hold her liquor. Teyla had offered to make her a special Athosian tea she guaranteed would ease a hangover, and Ronon had just looked vaguely amused by the whole situation. She'd spent most of the flight trying not to shift around too much in her chair despite the hard seat making her clothing chafe against her, self-consciously tugging the sleeves of her jacket down to cover the bruises ringing her wrists. She couldn't help stealing a few glances at John, but he'd seemed absorbed in looking at data on the HUD and listening to Teyla describe possible uses of the fruits and vegetables they'd traded for.

Now, Elizabeth sat uncomfortably at her desk, trying to pay attention to Lorne's update on Atlantis's status while they were away instead of thinking about what she was going to say to John when the briefing was over and they were alone.

". . . so Zelenka thinks we can fix the plumbing problem if we boost power to the water reclamation system by twenty percent. Well, it's all here in his report, I think you'll see--"

"Major," John interrupted, "I think those reports can wait, can't they? Dr. Weir is a bit under the weather and I'm sure she'd like to get some rest."

Lorne snapped to attention reflexively at the dismissal. "Of course, sir. Dr. Weir." He gathered his paperwork and nodded on his way out.

"Why don't you go get Carson to give you something for the headache?" John suggested, pushing off the wall he'd been leaning on. "And take a nap. I can hold down the fort."

"John," she called, stopping him from leaving. "About last--"

"Don't worry," he said in a soft voice, "it won't be in my report."

And then he was gone, before she could think of what else to say, of what else she _could_ say in her glass-walled, doorless office. Elizabeth dropped her head into her hands and pressed her palms into her eyes.

***

The thing was, she couldn't stop thinking about it. And it wasn't even the humiliation, the violation of being drugged -- it was the way that John acted like nothing at all had happened. He didn't try to talk to her, but he didn't avoid her, either. He showed up to all of their meetings and was as professional as he ever was, maybe a little more courteous than usual. If this was some kind of coping mechanism, Elizabeth sure as hell couldn't figure out how it was working for him. Not when she went hot with embarrassment every time she saw him, or when every glance at his face made her remember his lips on her body, or when her stomach twisted as his long fingers set reports down on her desk.

She might have been the one who'd been drugged, but that didn't mean that he hadn't been violated too; it didn't make sense to her that he would be unaffected by the experience. She couldn't be alone in being reminded of it constantly, could she?

So when they'd finished going over the offworld team schedule three days later, Elizabeth held him back in the conference room with an excuse about wanting to discuss a personnel matter. It wasn't entirely a lie, and it was enough to get him to wait patiently until the door had closed behind everyone else, leaving them with some privacy.

"About what happened on Solanis," she began, but he cut her off before she could continue.

"You were in trouble and I helped you out. It's not in the reports. Can we just forget about it?" His face was unreadable. She set her lips in a firm line.

"It's not the kind of thing I can just forget. The bruises alone are going to last for weeks." He flinched at that and looked guilty, which wasn't exactly the reaction she was expecting. She was trying to feel him out to see how he was dealing with it, not to accuse him of anything, but at least he was finally reacting.

Looking down at his fingers resting on the table, John took a breath and said, "I'm sorry. Your judgement was compromised, and when you told me to go I made the call that it would be safer for me to stay." The way he was talking sounded well-rehearsed, like he'd known that sooner or later she wasn't going to let him get away with ignoring it and he'd prepared in advance. Maybe he'd even prepared a report, in case she'd insisted on including it in the official documents. "I tried to-- to keep to minimal contact, but I understand if you feel like I've . . . " Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Look, you should probably be talking to Dr. Heightmeyer about this, not me."

"John, we should _both_ be talking to Dr. Heightmeyer."

He shook his head and pushed back from the table. "There are a lot of things I've had to do in this job, and as far as that goes, well. It's just sex." Standing, he paused in the doorway and glanced back over his shoulder at her. "I understand if you don't feel the same way. Take care of yourself, Elizabeth."

Staring after him, Elizabeth wished she didn't feel so disappointed.

***

"The military has different rules for doctor-patient confidentiality than civilians do," Elizabeth said, studying her fingernails. "How does that work for you, being here in a civilian capacity but serving the military?"

Dr. Heightmeyer leaned back in her chair. "As you said, I'm a civilian. I personally don't approve of the military's lack of respect for patient confidentiality, so regardless of my own status, I would never break that confidentiality unless I believed there was imminent danger." Elizabeth picked at the edge of one nail thoughtfully. "That wasn't a rhetorical question, was it, Dr. Weir? Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

She hesitated, heart suddenly thumping painfully fast in her chest and blood rushing to her cheeks. "What do you know about our trade mission to Solanis?"

"Only what was in the reports, and a rumor that perhaps the alcohol flowed a little too freely."

Leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, Elizabeth said earnestly, "Before I tell you the rest, I want to be sure that you understand that none of this was Colonel Sheppard's fault, and I don't want there to be any report of the matter at all. Is that acceptable to you?"

"Of course," Heightmeyer said, setting her notebook aside. "Maybe you should start at the beginning."

The story came out in bits and pieces. It was harder to say it out loud than she'd expected, especially when Heightmeyer asked for more details about the effects of the drink, or for what exactly had happened once John came to her room.

". . . and you decided together to keep this incident out of your official reports?"

"Yes. Well, no, we didn't really talk about it. He told me he wasn't putting it in his report, and I didn't put it in mine either."

Heightmeyer frowned slightly. "Do you mean you haven't spoken with Colonel Sheppard at all about what happened between you?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I tried, but he just told me to come talk to you instead. He seems like he just wants to act like nothing happened at all."

"It sounds like that bothers you."

"I can't--" Elizabeth bit her tongue, unsure how much to confess even under the comfort of patient confidentiality. "I can't act like nothing happened." She dropped her head, sighing. "I can't stop thinking about him, about what it must have been like for him, or . . ."

"Or?" Heightmeyer prompted.

". . . or what it would have been like if he had wanted it," she admitted quietly. "How am I supposed to have a working relationship when every time I see him I'm thinking about this?" Elizabeth had always prided herself on her professionalism, but these last few days the focus she needed had been hard to grasp. She often caught herself looking at the fading bruises on her wrists and picturing an endless stream of what-ifs.

"Elizabeth," Heightmeyer said, and Elizabeth braced herself. She recognized that tone of voice -- the _I'm about to ask you something you won't like_ voice. "Did you have sexual thoughts about Colonel Sheppard before this happened?"

"I-- We never--" Elizabeth opened and closed her mouth, unable to complete a sentence. _Yes,_ was the answer, _but not like this._

"It's perfectly natural to have thoughts like that about people you work with. The Colonel is an attractive man and you work very closely with him. To be honest, I would be more surprised if you told me you'd never thought about it."

"Alright, yes," Elizabeth said after a moment, "I've thought about him before. But I've been attracted to a lot of people over the years, and it's never been a problem."

"And it's become a problem since what happened on Solanis?" Elizabeth didn't reply; the answer was obvious. "Give yourself some time," Heightmeyer suggested gently. "You've been through a traumatic event. You need to process your feelings about it."

"Of course," Elizabeth said. She could only hope that she'd manage to process her feelings fast enough to avoid making any serious mistakes.

***

It would sneak up on her when she least expected it: the crook of his fingers around a coffee cup, the wry twist of his lips when Rodney complained. Little things, insignificant things, that left her suddenly thinking of his touch instead of paying attention to what was going on around her. Elizabeth felt like she was drowning by inches, gradually being swallowed up by her inability to control her own thoughts and emotions. It was kind of like being a teenager again.

It was two weeks later the first time she touched herself thinking of him -- the first time she'd touched herself at all since the incident on Solanis. In her fantasy, she was in control of her faculties despite the feverish burn of desire, and he was an eager and willing partner. In her fantasy, when she begged, he gave her what she needed.

Elizabeth felt guilty enough the next morning that she avoided meeting his gaze during her morning briefing. The day after that she sent him with a group of marines on a tedious and time-consuming offworld mission, to trade their help as laborers in exchange for grain. He'd protested that _any_ team of marines could be sent to do farm labor, that his skills were better put to use elsewhere, and he was right. But she forced herself to look him in the eye, and said, "Colonel, you _will_ go and help these people harvest their grain. It will build diplomatic relations for them to see someone of such a high rank supporting our trade efforts." John furrowed his brow, and she added, "Please."

His eyebrows drew even closer together, then abruptly relaxed. "Okay, we'll go," he said quietly, then he shrugged and added in a mocking tone, "since you asked so nicely." Elizabeth felt like he'd tacked that on for the benefit of the rest of the team, but she couldn't figure out why.

The harvest on M5S-589 would take at least a week, maybe two. Hopefully it would be enough time away from him for Elizabeth to get her act together.

***

Getting a break from John's constant presence was a relief. The whole situation was like the times back on Earth when she'd bring home cupcakes from the really good shop, the one that had rotating seasonal flavors so they were always a surprise, and always delicious. She would set the box of cupcakes on the counter and tell herself that she was saving them for a dinner party, but she wouldn't be able to stop thinking about them. Still, as long as the box was closed, it was okay -- she could pretend there was an invisible barrier there, something keeping her fingers out of the frosting, something that would let her say, "Well, since I haven't opened the box, it's off limits."

But sometimes, she'd open that box. Sometimes she'd look at the cupcakes, smell them, imagine what they'd taste like. And sometimes, she'd dip her little finger in the frosting of one of the cupcakes and take a tiny taste. Whenever she made that fatal mistake, she could never close the box again. Not only that, but if she tried, she'd constantly think of the sweetness of the frosting and wonder how rich the cake would taste. She'd fantasize about the flavors melting on her tongue until she'd cave and eat the whole cupcake just to satisfy her curiosity.

John was like that forbidden cupcake. Before the incident, she'd been able to put him clearly into a box labelled "off limits," where she could indulge in thinking about what he might be like without worrying about stepping over any lines. But when he'd touched her, when he'd put his mouth on her -- it was like that one dangerous bite of frosting. Now that she'd had a taste, she couldn't stop imagining what it would be like to have the rest of him. She couldn't close the box again, but she could at least send him out of sight, out of mind.

For the most part, it worked. Elizabeth was able to go about her job effectively, handle situations as they arose, make the decisions she'd been sent on this mission to make. If she made Lorne handle the calls when John checked in, well, that was just good delegation. If she still thought about him when she was alone in bed at night . . . she was only human, after all.

It was getting easier, each day he was away. The temptation was fading along with the last traces of the bruises on her wrists and hips. She was starting to feel better about the whole situation, more able to handle herself. Rodney (who had stayed behind because, as he said, "I don't impress people diplomatically, I'm terrible at manual labor, and besides, these idiots will destroy the plumbing again if I don't keep an eye on them") had finally stopped giving her curious, concerned looks out of the corner of his eye. Dr. Heightmeyer smiled at her when they passed in the halls.

_I can do this_ , she thought, confidence building -- right up until she got the report that the harvest was finished and John and the marines were coming back.

***

It hadn't been enough time, after all. When John came through the stargate suntanned and grinning, Elizabeth's heart jumped in her chest and tripped over a few beats. He caught her eye and nodded, still smiling; she forced herself to smile back, and fled to her office rather than go down the stairs to greet him.

She knew what she should have done. She should have been there with him, saying, "Welcome home, Colonel," and asking how much grain they'd brought back with them. He'd crack some jokes about manual labor, maybe about the quality of the locals' food and drink, and she'd laugh and tell him he'd done good work. He'd give her his sideways grin and saunter off with his men, and she'd set someone to inventorying their haul and go back to her office to write up a report. She'd been thinking about it and preparing herself for it for days.

Instead, in the moment, she couldn't face him and she ran. What a ridiculous, childish thing to do. Elizabeth rubbed her hands through her hair, then leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes and willing the nervous energy in her veins to settle down.

Her eyes snapped back open at the sound of someone clearing their throat. It was John, of course -- who else would it be? He was leaning against the frame of her office door, arms crossed. "Tough couple weeks?" he asked, moving into the room to perch on the corner of her desk.

Elizabeth schooled her face into a neutral expression, drawing on her years of experience of diplomatic poker faces. "No, not particularly."

He raised an eyebrow at her but let it go. "We got an extra bushel of some stuff that looks like wheat because the, uh, 'Harvest Priestess' blessed our efforts. I think she really just liked watching Lieutenant Tanaka cut grain with his shirt off."

She forced a smile and said, "Glad to hear it. I'm sure whoever is on kitchen rotation this week will be happy to get the inventory list."

"Anything happen while I was gone that I should know about?"

"Well, let's see . . ." Elizabeth turned to her laptop and paged through her last few log entries. “Rodney put a new filtration system in that he swears will fix all of our plumbing problems. Cadman's been having an unofficial marksmanship competition, which she's winning by a pretty good margin. Oh, and Lorne did all the paperwork you had piling up; you should really stop by and thank him for that." That was good, that was normal, she was just giving a necessary status update. Maybe she could do this after all.

When she looked back up at him, John was studying her face, head tilted a little to the side, eyes slightly squinted. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"I just thought-- nevermind. I'll go make sure the inventory list is taken care of." She nodded at him, sitting straight-backed until he had disappeared around the corner. Only then did she let herself relax, drooping into her chair while she chastised herself under her breath.

He'd been back for all of ten minutes and she was already a mess again. Elizabeth had been attracted to men she worked with in the past, but she'd always been able to compartmentalize it and ignore the feelings. Then again, she'd never had sex with someone she worked with before.

***

Avoiding him altogether simply wasn't an option. Elizabeth made it through her staff meetings and briefings by doing exactly her job and no more; no joking, no personal banter, and definitely no flirting. She thought it was working well until she heard Rodney say, "What crawled up her ass?" as she left her review of the week's offworld missions.

After that, she made a point of sitting down across from Teyla at her next meal, instead of sequestering herself in her office or in the corner with a pile of reports to go over. Teyla updated her on how the Athosians were doing on the mainland following the latest bout of severe weather, and Elizabeth learned a bit more about Athosian customs, as she did every time she managed to speak with Teyla for more than five minutes.

She was mostly finished with her lunch when Teyla said, "Dr. Weir, may I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course," she replied automatically.

"Did you and Colonel Sheppard have a . . . a falling out of some sort?"

Elizabeth blinked a few times in surprise, then forced herself to laugh. "Not at all, what makes you say that?"

"He has been rather . . . Well, Rodney would say, 'grouchy,' since returning from M5S-589. He is less focused in our training sessions, and I have observed that he seems to be . . . uncomfortable during meetings with you."

Teyla looked concerned, but all Elizabeth felt was a sharp stab of guilt. Clearly he had noticed her putting distance between them and was upset by it. _I'm just trying to be professional,_ she reminded herself, and said, "Could be he's just having an off week. Maybe he got too much sun during that harvest." 

"Perhaps," Teyla agreed, though she didn't look convinced. Elizabeth speared a tomato with her fork, then set it down when she heard footsteps approaching.

"Ladies," John greeted them, setting his tray down on the table. "I hope I'm not interrupting?" The guilt twisted further in Elizabeth's gut, and she forced herself to relax.

"Of course not," Teyla said.

"Colonel," Elizabeth acknowledged, picking up her fork again in the hope that shoving food in her mouth would prevent her from saying anything stupid. He slid into the seat next to her, close enough that their elbows brushed, sending sparks up her nerves. She shifted to the right to move out of range of accidental contact.

If he noticed, he pretended not to, launching into a discussion of the quality of the vegetables from the hydroponics department. It was a good topic, impersonal enough that she was able to carry on a reasonable conversation. The tension in her muscles never abated though, not when he sat so close; it occurred to her this was the closest she'd been to John since the incident. She probably avoided looking at him more than was natural, but whenever she glanced up to see his lips parting, the tip of his pink tongue peeking out as he ate another bite of his salad, she was flooded with thoughts that were completely inappropriate for the mess hall. Avoidance was definitely the safer option, rather than be caught staring at her military commander's mouth.

Elizabeth didn't hurry through her lunch, but she didn't linger either, taking the opportunity to excuse herself as soon as she was done. She didn't look back as she bussed her tray, but she could feel the heat of his stare until she was out the door.

***

"Can I come in?" John asked, rocking on the balls of his feet. It was late, and she'd been lying in bed reading when her door chime had surprised her; finding John at her door had been even more of a surprise, especially after the cold shoulder she'd given him earlier.

"Of course," Elizabeth replied, stepping back. "What can I do for you, Colonel?" She smoothed down her shirt, suddenly self-conscious to be found in her pajamas when he was still in his uniform, and a little nervous at having him in her bedroom.

"Well, you could start by calling me John," he replied easily as the door slid shut behind him. "You used to."

Elizabeth took a deep breath and sat down on the foot of her bed. "Alright then, John, what can I do for you?"

He looked hard at her for a minute, then sat in her desk chair, sighing. "Look, Elizabeth, I'm not good at . . . talking about things. I know you're still mad at me about what happened on Solanis and I don't blame you. You-- You feel that I took advantage of you, and I'm sorry. But I can't change what happened, so can you just tell me what I need to do to fix this?"

Elizabeth blinked at him in surprise. Of all the things she'd expected him to say when confronting her about her unprofessional behavior, this wasn't one of them. Teyla's comment about them having had a falling out suddenly made a lot more sense. "I don't . . . I don't think you took advantage of me." If anything, it had probably been the other way around.

"That's what all . . . _this_ . . . has been about." John gestured vaguely between them. "Avoiding me, sending me off to do farm work for two weeks? It's because you're angry with me." He tilted his head and drew his brows together suddenly. "Isn't it?"

A helpless laugh bubbled out of her throat. This conversation was quickly spiralling out of control into sensitive territory and she wasn't sure she wanted to know where it was going to end up. "I'm not-- I'm not _mad_ at you."

"What is it, then? You don't trust me anymore?" He sounded hurt, god, John Sheppard sounded like she'd hurt his feelings, and if there was any way things could get worse this was probably it.

"I trust you, John," she said, "I do. That's never been an issue."

He stood and threw his hands up in the air. "Goddamn it, Elizabeth, help me out here. What is it you want from me?"

His feelings were clear on his face in a way he almost never allowed, and the raw emotion in his voice startled her into the truth. "You," she blurted out. "I want-- I want _you_." And there it was, the words falling to the floor between them. "Oh my god," Elizabeth muttered, dropping her head into her hands.

There was a moment of silence, and then the bed dipped as John sat down next to her. "Oh. Wow," he said quietly. "I really never see this coming."

She couldn't help it -- she laughed. The whole situation was so ridiculous, there was really nothing else to do. When she recovered, she chanced a glance at him and found him looking at her curiously. "I'm sorry," she said at last. "I've been unprof--"

Elizabeth was cut off by the sudden press of John's lips to her own. It was like that moment on Solanis in reverse -- this time she was the one frozen in surprise, and his lips were soft and insistent. Then the wires connected in her brain, and she was kissing him back, open-mouthed and eager. It was everything she'd imagined: the firm pressure of his lips, the wet slide of his tongue, the hot caress of his hand on her cheek. Her body responded fast, heart rate ratcheting up and blood heating her skin. She'd thought he wasn't interested but his actions now were showing her exactly how wrong she'd been. Still, there was a reason she'd tried to put professional distance between them, there were _rules_ , there were . . . all sorts of things that were going to slip her mind entirely if he kept kissing her like that. She pulled back to catch her breath and gasped, "We shouldn't, we shouldn't--"

"Yeah," he breathed, kissing her again. She put her hands on his chest, not sure if she was doing it to push him away or just because she wanted to feel the hard planes of muscle she'd been dreaming about. He was solid and warm under her fingers, and there was nothing she wanted more than to melt into his embrace, but instead she pulled back again and said, "John, this is a te--"

"Terrible idea," he agreed as his hand slid around her waist, pulling their bodies together, and his mouth came down on hers again. It really was a terrible idea, but he felt so good and she'd been wanting him so badly for so long that she didn't have the willpower to stop this. He pushed her down onto the bed and she went willingly, arching into his touch as he slid his knee between her legs.

"Just once," she whispered as he kissed down her jaw to her neck. "Just this one time." She could allow herself that much, couldn't she? Just enough to get it out of her system.

"Mmmm," he replied, one of his hands moving up to cup her breast through her thin pajama shirt, braless since she'd been about to go to bed. Her nipple hardened rapidly under his touch and she couldn't help the small sound that escaped her. He pushed her shirt up and got his mouth on her breasts; she tangled one hand in his hair and slid the other along his arm, letting herself fully appreciate the solid muscles flexing beneath his skin. "You have no idea how hard it was not to touch you like this," he said as her nipple slipped out of his mouth, "especially when you were begging for it." His breath was cool compared to the heat of his mouth, and she shivered as it blew across her sensitive skin.

"I thought you said you were just doing your job. You said you'd had to do worse. I thought you weren't . . . mmm . . . interested."

John laughed, then sucked her nipple back into his mouth, teasing with the tip of his tongue. "I thought you knew how turned on I was by it, and that's why you were avoiding me," he murmured against her skin as he kissed his way to her other breast. " . . . that all those things you said that night were just because of the drugs, that you'd never actually want . . . " He made a small, pleased sound as he closed his mouth over her again.

"I . . . oh god, that's . . . I couldn't even look at you without thinking about this, and wondering what it would be like for real." Elizabeth tugged on his hair, pulling him up to kiss him again. He scooted her up the bed with an arm around her waist, then settled back down over her. There was no mistaking his desire this time, not with his erection hard and hot against her hip and his lips and tongue so insistent. "Hard to get work done when I can't stop thinking about sex," she said, reaching one hand down to feel him through his pants. "One taste and I want the whole thing."

"Well," he said, rocking forward into her hand, "is it as good as you imagined?"

"Let's find out." She smiled as she started to work his belt open, fumbling with the buckle until he moved off of her to strip his clothes off with military efficiency. Elizabeth shimmied out of her sweats and underwear and tossed her top off to the side, and then it was just the two of them, skin against skin, her arms around his neck and his hand at the curve of her ass.

His cock slid against her thigh, then he paused. "Condom?" he asked, voice rough with arousal.

She shook her head. "I have an IUD."

"Oh thank god, I want to--"

"Yeah, yeah," she panted, reaching down to guide him into position. He slid into her slowly but surely; she felt like she'd been wet for him for weeks, ready and waiting. They both groaned as he bottomed out, filling her up hard and hot and everything she'd dreamed of. It felt so good and she'd been waiting for so long she practically came just from that, but then he started to move and it got even better.

Elizabeth had fantasized about this a million different ways; she'd imagined him taking her hard and fast, or holding her down and relentlessly driving into her, or laying back with her on top. Never had she imagined him slow and sensual like this, though, moving in long, measured strokes, pulling almost all the way out and then sliding back in so she could feel every inch of him as he penetrated her. She'd imagined his body over her, but not the way he nuzzled his nose behind her ear, or the way he whispered her name as he kissed the corner of her jaw.

She'd imagined John Sheppard fucking her six ways from Sunday, but she'd never imagined him making love to her.

He stopped every so often, moving his head down to lavish attention on her breasts, or sliding his hand between them to tease her clit, giving himself time to back away from finishing too soon. It just made it more intense when he started up again. She wrapped her legs around him to urge him on when the tension in her was building to a fever pitch, when she didn't think she could stand having him slow down one more time. He took the hint and kept his hand on her clit, working her as he started moving faster, pushing into her harder. The pressure of his fingers, the smooth slip-slide of his cock inside her, and the heat of his breath on her ear were enough to bring her up to the edge. It was the amazing sounds he made as his own orgasm approached that tipped her over though, digging her fingers into his shoulders, contracting hard around him as he moaned his release into the curve of her neck.

It was a long time before either of them moved, but finally John rolled off of her, sprawling on his back next to her.

"Just once, huh?" he asked.

"It's for the best," she replied, letting her fingers trail over his arm and tangle with his own. "Chain of command, conflict of interest."

"Yeah." He rubbed his thumb over her wrist.

"Yeah," she agreed.

Elizabeth couldn't remember if she'd ever been able to stop at just one cupcake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really cannot thank [misswonderheart](http://misswonderheart.tumblr.com) and [atrata](http://archiveofourown.org/users/atrata) enough for their help on this. Misswonderheart has been cheerleading me and brainstorming with me and beta reading for me for the whole time I've been writing this, and atrata was kind enough to beta read and brainstorm despite not being in this fandom at all. I never intended to write such a long fic, but I'm glad I stepped outside my comfort zone and did it. My only regret is that I'm writing this ten years after everyone else stopped caring about this show.
> 
> But! If you, like me, are just now watching it obsessively, feel free to drop me a line on [tumblr](http://marmolita.tumblr.com).


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